


Seven

by esmerod



Category: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!
Genre: Birth of Satan, Bitchy Lucifer, Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, Diavolo POV, Hurt Lucifer, Love at First Sight, Lucifer's Fall, M/M, Not Beta Read, Origin Story, Slash, Trauma, dialuci, not mpreg though, pre-game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-13
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:40:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22693432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/esmerod/pseuds/esmerod
Summary: After the angels fell, Diavolo offered their leader his hand. It took seven days until the Morningstar finally accepted it. Study of the brothers' beginning in the Devildom, Diavolo/Lucifer
Relationships: Diavolo/Lucifer (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)
Comments: 38
Kudos: 288





	1. Day One

The impact had shaken the ground and left an immense crater. Diavolo whistled impressedly when he approached its rim. Of course, he'd heard of the disturbances in the Celestial Realm, the war. He had, however, never anticipated that they would be the ones graced with its fallout, or in this case, its throwaways.

The angels were still mostly unconscious. There was some groaning and writhing, but essentially the creatures looked more like the poor broken remnants of what he knew to be the members of the heavenly host. He approached the nearest one, a tall dark-haired male with a mark on his forehead. One of his guards put a cautioning hand on his upper-arm but Diavolo shook his head. The broken creature on the ground looked far from capable of harming him. His body was covered in a layer of dust and grime which still couldn't hide the countless lacerations and burn marks. Diavolo was almost certain that not all of them could be from the impact.

He hunkered down and studied the angel. His chest was rising and falling, but so far, he hadn't shown any sign of wanting to engage with him. Was he only pretending to be unconscious? Diavolo squinted and decided to give it a try.

"Hello," he said. Admittedly not the most original thing ever, but the options of what you could offer someone who had just lost a war and consequently been chucked out of their home seemed limited.

The angel didn't react but there was a hitch in his breathing. So, he was awake. Diavolo smirked and cocked his head. Despite the injuries and the frazzled look, he had to admit that the angel was rather sightly.

"What's your name?" he asked. "I'm prince Diavolo. My father sends me as an emissary. I'm to make sure you know the Devildom welcomes you." He extended his hand in the angel's direction, waiting for him to react to the offer.

The angel turned his head indeed. With distrustful eyes he studied Diavolo's hand and eventually pushed it out of the way to get up. Too weakened to make it on his own though, he stumbled and ended up back in the dirt.

Diavolo had to suppress an amused chuckle. Oh, that one was feisty.  
"Be careful," he offered instead. "You took quite the tumble."  
  
"Do you think this is funny?!" the angel barked, staring at the demon prince with hatred in his eyes.  
  
"Not at all," Diavolo answered. "I was sincere in my offer to help." He reached his hand out again.

The angel snorted and turned his head away. "Leave me in peace. I don't need your help."

Diavolo shrugged and got up from his crouching position. He wasn't too bothered by the angel's rejection. Arrogance was part of their breeding, so that he thought himself too good to engage with him didn't come as much of a surprise. He'd be cured of this kind of behaviour soon enough.

"As I can see, you're not alone," he vaguely gestured into the direction of the other, still unconscious angels, which elicited quite the violent flinch from the grumpy brunette. "My father offers you and your brethren sanctuary. You can stay here or move to the nearest dwelling, the city of Pandemonium, which is also where my father's palace is located. But it's really up to you."

The angel's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Don't bother. We won't be staying in the Devildom."

"Oh," Diavolo raised an eyebrow in mock astonishment. "Then, where will you go?" He paused for a moment, "Earth? That's not for immortals, we both know that. You'd be hunted down eventually."

They angel didn't answer but the dark look in his eyes made more than clear that he was fully aware of the truthfulness of Diavolo's words and deeply resented him for it.

"Here," Diavolo extended his hand for a third time. "Let me help you. I can show you around and maybe you'll change your mind afterwards."

And again, the angel ignored him. Instead he huffed and painstakingly pushed himself back to his feet – successfully this time. Diavolo felt quite amused by it.

At full height the angel was even more breath-taking than before. Dirty and broken, most certainly, but also still inhabited by the splendour of heaven. Diavolo drank in the sight and noticed to his satisfaction that he was taller than this fallen star. A smile started playing at the corners of his lips, which only seemed to enrage the angel more. So, he inclined his head. "Maybe we should see after your brethren," he suggested as neutrally as possible.

The angel was still eyeing him suspiciously but eventually turned round to take him up on this proposal.

That was when Diavolo noticed it, a protrusion on the angel's back. It took him aback, because unlike all the other abrasions and damages the creature seemed to have suffered, this one looked... wrong. Without thinking Diavolo reached out to touch the swollen area.

Within the blink of eye, the angel had whirled around, aiming to attack him with a deliberate blow to the neck. Diavolo was able to block it, albeit scarcely. He forced a smile and waved his guards down while at the same time he could feel a bead of sweat trickling down his spine.

"I apologize, that was inappropriate," he said and raised his hands in a placating manner. Internally he was scolding himself. Before him stood one of the Celestial Realm's greatest warriors and he – impulsive idiot that he was – had tried to pet him like an injured kitten.   
"Rest assured that I merely intended to check on your wounds."

The angel's eyes were once again reflecting nothing but contempt. "I don't need your pity, so keep your dirty paws away from me!" he spat, yet at the same time his posture remained hunched. It was clear that the swelling on his back must be painful. Diavolo observed the whole thing with a small frown creasing his forehead but refrained from saying any more.

The angel began hobbling in the direction of his fallen comrades, each step making his ruffled wings bob with the uneven movement. Then he stopped, curving the black appendices forward. With widened eyes and shaking fingers, he examined them. "They're black," he whispered, shock written all over his beautiful face. "They weren't black before."

Diavolo nodded in sympathy. It seemed an obvious development to him, but apparently the same thing had never occurred to the angel. "You fell from the heavens in a ball of fire," he began very carefully, "and your impact left a crater so big one could build a village in it. It seems only natural this would come with a change in your nature."

The angel was still staring at his blackened wings, then abruptly let go of them. "I see," he mumbled and tried to stand straighter again. It wasn't an entirely successful endeavour. Diavolo decided that this wasn't a good moment to mention the horns, the angel would find out soon enough.

TBC


	2. Day Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day two is Mammon-Day!

When Diavolo returned the next day, the angels had erected something like a settlement. Though 'settlement' was a bit of an overstatement as it mostly consisted of a few tent-like structures located in the middle of the crater. Still, it was quite a feat and Diavolo didn't want to belittle it, especially not on front of the frigid brunette that had clearly taken on the role of the leader.   
However, when he expressed his respects for how much they'd achieved within this short span of time, he only got a disdainfully raised eyebrow in return. It made him chuckle, and the angel didn't seem pleased by that reaction at all. "What do you want?" he asked icily.

"To see how you're doing," Diavolo answered and smiled.  
  
"We're doing fine. And you can tell your father that we don't require an overseer. Which means you can leave."

Diavolo cocked his head. "I'm afraid it's not quite that simple," he took a step closer towards the angel, who didn't retreat but still narrowed his eyes. "I'm here to get to know you. After all, my father requires some information on the novices that are camping in his dominion."

The angel scoffed; his mouth distorted into a grimace. He started to turn away from Diavolo.  
  
"Your name would be a good start," Diavolo continued, which made the angel pause abruptly. He looked back over his shoulders, his eyes cold. "My name is none of your concern."

"Oh, really? But you were given one, weren't you? As far as I know names are quite a big deal for your lot. Your father," he pointed heavenwards, "gifts you with one that determines your fate."

"You know nothing," the angel gritted out. He looked extremely strained now. "These names are neither accurate nor desired. They should be forgotten, or rather… burned." He balled his hands to fists.

Diavolo nodded and took a cautious step back. So, names were apparently a sore spot. Noted. He studied the still visibly agitated angel. For the most part he looked better than the day before. Many of the lacerations had already started healing, which was a good sign. There was only the protrusion on the back that appeared even bigger and more bruised than before. Diavolo wondered if the angel had somehow been poisoned or otherwise harmed during his fall but asking about it was obviously out of the question.

"So, what would you like to be called then?" he asked instead.

The angel took a deep breath. "I don't care," he grumbled and started moving again. Diavolo followed him.

"Well, seeing as you fell from the from Heaven in a blazing ball of fire that lit up the night sky like a shooting star, I think I'll call you … Morningstar."

The angel looked like he wanted to kill him. "I decline."  
  
"You can't, because you just said you don't care," Diavolo teased. He was grinning like a Cheshire cat.

"Fine, do whatever you want," the a- the Morningstar pressed through gritted teeth and started walking again.

They were approaching the biggest tent in their little dwelling. Diavolo hadn't officially been invited, but then, these angels were encamping on his father's land, so it seemed appropriate.   
"So," he started, "you could introduce me to your brethren." He vaguely gestured in the direction of a big muscular redhead that was sitting next to the tent. Said redhead looked up with a somewhat discontented expression on his face. "I'm hungry, brother." He was clearly addressing his grouchy guide but Diavolo stopped, nonetheless.

"We can get you some supplies," he offered readily, and then looked inquiringly from the redhead to the Morningstar, whose nose was scrunched up in displeasure. Much more carefully he added, "only if you wish, of course."  
  
"That won't be necessary," the Morningstar retorted. "Our other brother has already taken care of it and established a trade agreement with the," he hesitated, "natives."

Diavolo raised an eyebrow. "I see. May I ask which brother it is. I might be able to help."  
  
A long-suffering sigh was the answer, still the Morningstar gestured towards one of the outer tents where a dark-skinned, white-haired angel was drawing numbers and lines into the dirt. More conversationally Diavolo asked, "are all the angels here male? I've heard that females exist, but so far I haven't seen any."

That obviously seemed to be the wrong thing to ask - again! - because the Morningstar's head snapped around and he threw him withering look. Diavolo forced a smile. Alright, girl angels were a bad topic too, duly noted.

They walked over to the counting angel who, upon closer inspection, was surrounded by some small copper pieces, some matted furs, a few half-broken weapons, a somewhat mouldy loaf of bread and a few bottles with some brown liquid. When they arrived, he proudly held up the bread and beamed at the Morningstar. "Brother, look what I got us!"

The Morningstar's expression softened a bit, still it was rather obvious that the thought of consuming this kind of food didn't particularly appeal to him. "What did you trade them?" he asked.

"That's the best part, bro!" The white-haired angel got up and enthusiastically slung his arm over the Morningstar's shoulders. Diavolo observed with some fascinations how the markings on the dark-skinned angels' arms seemed to grow and lengthen while he conspiratorially whispered, "nothing" before laughing loudly.

"The folk here are dumb, they totally believed me when I said I'd get back to them later."

The Morningstar shook his head, then he removed the other angel's arm from his shoulder. "You don't know what you're doing."

"Pff," the angel waved him off, "don't worry. Even if they come after us, what are they gonna do? They're just bunch of filthy demons."

Diavolo raised an eyebrow while the Morningstar pinched the bridge of his nose. It was only then when the white-haired angel seemed to fully register him. "Who are you, mate?" He addressed Diavolo and slunk over with some interest on his face.

"This," the Morningstar gestured in his direction, "is prince Diavolo. Son of the ruler of the Devildom."

The expression on the angel's face morphed from interest to realisation to panic, and he put his hands up in a placating manner. "Man, I didn't mean that. You demons aren't filthy at all… maybe a bit weird looking, but not dumb or anything. Even though those peasants really should re-think their hygiene. I mean that place was…"

"Shut up, now!" the Morningstar interrupted. Then he took a deep breath and focused on Diavolo. "I apologize," he said, and it was clear how much effort these words cost him. "My bother doesn't know what he's talking about. He used to be a great warrior but unfortunately his mental capacities seemed to have suffered greatly from the fall."  
"Hey!" the angel interjected, but the Morningstar just continued talking over him. "Of course, we'll compensate the locals for the food they provided. We wouldn't want to start our neighbourly relationship on bad terms." He forced a smile. Diavolo nodded in response and decided he'd already forgiven the insult, not so much because he felt reassured but because he enjoyed the pretty curmudgeon' smile. He really wondered what it would look like if it were real.

"Rest assure that my brother will be punished accordingly," the Morningstar finally ended.

"Oh, that might not even be necessary."

Confusion passed the Morningstar's face and Diavolo pointed to the crater's rim where a bunch of angry – and indeed quite filthy – demons had gathered. They were holding sticks and pitchforks and some were looking at their trio.

Diavolo patted the white-haired angels back in mock sympathy. "The peasants are here to collect their due."

The angel's eyes widened in surprise and he turned towards the Morningstar, stuttering helplessly. "Brother, please. I was just trying to get us the best deal."  
But the Morningstar just look down his nose and crossed his arms over his chest. "You were greedy and now you get what you deserve." Then he nodded subtly towards Diavolo and the two of them started walking away.

"Brother, wait. Help me!" the angel called after them, but the Morningstar ignored him.

Diavolo and the Morningstar walked in silence for a while, but then a heavy sigh could be heard.  
"I feel a have to apologize again, Your Highness." It sounded forced, yet Diavolo couldn't help enjoy hearing these words coming from this prideful creature, so he stopped.  
  
"No need," he answered magnanimously, "but still, I have to say I'm surprised. Aren't angels supposed to be pure, righteous beings that don't cheat gullible villagers?"

"Angels, yes," the Morningstar scoffed. "But I think it's become rather self-evident that that's not what we are anymore." Almost absentmindedly his pale hand wandered to his horns, tracing the ridges there.

Diavolo nodded, so he had noticed the horns, after all.

  
  


TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think ♥


	3. Day Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit late. I'm trying to stick to a weekly update schedule, but I was sick so this took a bit longer.

On the third day, the angels' settlement had grown even more and progressed to some more permanent structures. Mind, most of the buildings were still tents, but the one in the middle was an adobe hut. Diavolo observed it with some satisfaction as he approached the Morningstar who was in the process of instructing the big redhead where to put a particularly heavy brick.

"You're doing well."

The Morningstar ignored him for a while and instead continued directing the other angel's movement with meticulous precision. Only when the brick had been laid and the redhead trudged off did he finally turn around. He looked annoyed, and, to Diavolo's chagrin, somewhat tired.

"What do you want?"

Diavolo answered with a mild smile and tried to downplay his apprehension. "The same thing as yesterday and the day before, to see how things are going and to make sure everything's fine."

Despite that statement being mostly true, the Morningstar narrowed his eyes in suspicion.  
“We received your supplies,” he retorted stiffly. "And while my brothers seem unable to contain themselves, I have to wonder about your intentions.” His gaze drifted quickly into the direction the redhead had wandered off to before it landed back on Diavolo where it only seemed to harden more.

It made Diavolo swallow.

“Demons are not exactly known for their altruism. So, please, Lord Diavolo, stop these pretences and state what you want.”

Diavolo’s smile fell and he took a deep breath. Alright, busted. Almost sheepishly he crossed his arms in front of his broad chest. “I was in no way trying to deceive you,” he offered. The Morningstar raised an eyebrow, looking unimpressed. It made Diavolo take another deep breath.

“You and your brothers are powerful creatures. And as I stated in the beginning, my father sent me as an emissary to,” he hesitated, “to make sure you find a suitable place here in the Devildom and in the ranks of my father’s court.”

The Morningstar’s face lit up in recognition before it distorted into a resentful grimace. He understood completely what Diavolo was implying here, still the prince continued. “As you are obviously here to stay,” he gestured towards the settlement, “we can't let you build some kind of isolated counter society. You need to be integrated into the existing structures by swearing fealty to my father.”

“Never!” The Morningstar flared up, and Diavolo instinctively took a step back. “How dare you suggest such a thing?! I did not fight a holy war against the Almighty to free myself and my brethren from His tyrannical rule to bow to another self-proclaimed king!”

The Morningstar’s wrath was a frightening thing to behold. Hovering above the ground with his black wings extended, he seemed to radiate power and destruction to such an extent it had Diavolo shudder. Yet at the same time he couldn’t help but stare, for the Morningstar was glorious.

Then, as abruptly as it had started, the Morningstar sank back to ground, a pained groan escaping him. Diavolo rushed over immediately only to receive a hissed “don’t touch me!”. So he stopped and instead regarded the defeated angel from a distance. He did look healed up, mostly. But the thing on his back, the protrusion or whatever it was, it appeared worse than ever. It was bruised in all colours now and seemed to have festered. Diavolo really wondered what was going on there, but with the Morningstar denying him even a simple touch, it was completely impossible to make an accurate diagnosis.

So he straightened and waited. He waited until the angel stopped panting and seemed capable of listening to him once more. As collected as possible he said, “if you don’t swear fealty, you will be annihilated. And we both know you’re in no state to fight.”

It wasn't meant as a threat…. Ok well, it was. But it wasn't supposed to frighten anybody, especially not the Morningstar who was staring at him with blazing eyes, full of hatred. He scrambled back to his feet, still wobbling a bit, and then, without another word, stalked off.

Diavolo stared after him.

Alright, that hadn't gone well. Diavolo rubbed his head. He couldn't exactly say he was surprised but he'd still hoped for a bit more cooperation. He sighed and turned around. Maybe he should focus his attentions more on the other angels. So far, he'd neglected them a bit. Compliments of the Morningstar's all-encompassing glory that seemed to occupy his every waking thought, but he'd try the get them to see reason.

A one on one might be a good idea. Diavolo's gaze drifted to the Sea of Despair in the distance. He was pretty sure he'd seen one of them out on the shore when he'd approached the settlement. So he started walking and indeed spotted one of the angels sitting on a rock staring out at the rolling waves.

It was the blue-haired, lanky fellow. Diavolo hadn't really had any real exchange with him so far, only ever noticed him lagging behind, not quite as outgoing as the rest of his brethren.

He approached the angel, careful to make some noise as not to startle him.   
"Fond of the sea?" he asked once he'd come to a stop next to him.

The angel didn't answer. His head was propped on his knee and he was playing with some pebbles which he threw in sporadic intervals at the water. Diavolo's gaze followed the movement and observed how the pebble sunk into the waves. He felt like he had to supress another deep sigh. These fallen angels were all so horribly obstinate.

"It reminds me of home," the angel muttered eventually. Diavolo pricked up his ears, against the noise of the ocean the low retort had been hard to make out. Still, he put on his best friendly mien and nodded sympathetically. "You have undergone a profound change; some homesickness seems only natural."

And when the angel, once again, didn't show a reaction, Diavolo added, "at least you have your brothers with you to support you in these trying times."

Slowly, the angel turned his head, scrutinizing him thoroughly. It wasn't the kind of withering look the Morningstar had gifted him with so often, but it was still more than obvious that Diavolo, once again, had said the wrong thing. He tried to amend his blunder with a sheepish grin.

"You don't get along with your brothers?"

"We get along," the angel answered somewhat coolly before his gaze returned to the sea and he bedded his head on his knee again. "They just don't like me all that much. They think I'm weird."  
Diavolo furrowed his brow. He could definitely see the weird part, but that wasn't something he'd ever say out loud. So instead he asked, "What are you doing out here?"

"I fish… and observe the sea creatures." And almost like an afterthought, the angel added, "They like playing hide and seek." A small smile was playing at the corners of his lips. Diavolo nodded. These angels were definitely weird.

"So, you're a good swimmer then?"

The angel seemed to contemplate that question and cocked his head, revealing a few glistening scales on his neck. Diavolo's eyes widened in surprise but he schooled his expression immediately. Judging someone on their possession of scales seemed inappropriate and he had already committed so many cultural blunders, it was no wonder the Morningstar stormed off.

"I swim better than the fanged starfish but not as fast as the shooting spearheads," the angel chuckled, obviously amused by this own comparison. Diavolo smiled politely even though the humour eluded him.

"Sometimes, I even swim against them," the angel pointed at a group of villagers that were standing at the shore no far off. They were carrying some spears and were only clothed with a small loincloth. Diavolo regraded them appraisingly. "Local fishermen," he mumbled, louder he asked, "Do you trade with them?"

"Trade?" the angel seemed almost offended by that idea. "Why would I? They don't swim better than I do. I can get all the fish I want." His voice was getting louder and only now did Diavolo notice the swishing of something that was most definitely a tail. He had somewhat overlooked it because it had been wrapped around the rock. He took a step back and tried to make sure to come across as non-threatening as possible.

"Oh, I don't doubt that, but a group can get more fish than one person, and like this you might be able to provide more food for your brothers."

That seemed to have desired effect. The swishing of the – admittedly – very serpentine tail stopped, and the angel studied him with intense yellow eyes. "You think so?"  
  
Diavolo nodded, and the angel, indecisive in how to proceed, started chewing on his lip. His gaze returned to regular up and down of the waves.

Diavolo nodded again, this time more to himself. He patted the angel on the back then turned to leave. Nobody could fault him for not trying, but even the prince of the Devildom could only do so much when it came to angelic idiosyncrasies.

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love otaku Levi but I have to admit I struggled a bit with encompassing his character traits as well as the aspect of envy in this more primitive depiction of the Devildom. I hope you liked in anyway.
> 
> Let me know what you think ♥


	4. Day Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gore warning for the second half of the chapter!

When Diavolo arrived at the settlement on the fourth day, the Morningstar wasn't around. He told himself that it didn't mean anything and that their little disagreement the day before wasn't the reason. Still, he couldn't deny a certain amount of uneasiness when he strolled among the tents and complimented the fallen angels on their sturdiness.

Mostly, the angels ignored him – seemed to be a family trait – or limited their acknowledgement to a curt nod, but there was one fellow that seemed exceptionally eager to get him to come into his tent. He was lean and had lovely features, but he wasn't the Morningstar, so Diavolo declined and instead inquired about their leader's whereabouts. It had the lovely angel purse his lips in displeasure.

"Why do you want to know about him? You could spend some time with me instead of old grouch." He smiled. And Diavolo had to admit it was a charming smile indeed, it almost made him forget about why he'd come here in the first place. Then, realisation overcame him, and he shook himself free from the spell. He fixed the angel with a reproachful glare. "Don't try that on me."

The angel only laughed in response, the sound as melodious as the chiming of bells. "Oh, don't take it personally, darling, I'm just testing the limits of my new powers." He patted Diavolo's back, "So far, you're the first to resist." He winked.

Diavolo pinched the bridge of his nose and mumbled, "new powers, of course…"

"But seriously, I don't understand what you want with old grouch." The angel's face had taken on a somewhat more serious expression, his index finger tapping against his lower lip. "Yesterday he got into a fight with Az…" he stopped himself, balling his hand into a fist, "…with brother tree trunk over there. And that's like picking a fight with a puppy."

Diavolo followed the angel's nod into the direction of the tall redhead, who, in the meantime, had almost become an old acquaintance of his. Nevertheless, he understood how an argument between those two would be very unbalanced. He sighed. "Do you know where he went?"

The pretty angel shrugged. "He left in a huff. He's not in a good place right now, so you should rather let him be." After a pause he added, "things have been difficult for him."

"I assume they have been difficult for all of you," Diavolo offered a bit more reconciliatorily, which had the pretty angel shrug again. Only this time slight blush seemed to tinge his cheeks.  
"Everything is new," he offered quietly, "even we are new."  
  
Diavolo nodded in sympathy. And after another moment of appraising each other the angel sighed and gave in, "Alright, I'll tell you where he went. But don't say I didn't warn you. If he rips off your head, you had it coming."

"Understood."

The angel took a deep breath. "He went to the caves. But really, be careful! Saying he's not in a good mood is the understatement of the century."

Diavolo nodded again.

* * *

The cave's entrance was cast in shadow. Diavolo wasn't sure whether or not it was a good idea to call out for the Morningstar, but just entering his abode without announcing himself seemed rude too. So, he went for a tentative, "Hello? Is anyone here?" and regretted it immediately.

 _Is anyone there?_ Of course, he knew the Morningstar was there, he could practically feel his power radiating off him in waves. That was exactly what worried him so much.

He rounded the next corner and spotted a figure lying crumpled on the ground. Diavolo's first instinct was to rush over there and help, but something wasn’t quite right, so he stopped and observed.  
Something wasn't right about how the Morningstar looked, he appeared… distorted. Diavolo furrowed his brow. Then a groan broke through the tension and the Morningstar turned.  
  
Diavolo gasped and took an involuntary step back. It was hard to describe what he saw, but the bruise on the angel’s back had grown so much, it almost seemed to be crushing its host. It had become an ulceration so huge it appeared to have a life of its own. Diavolo’s eyes widened. Had something just pushed against the taut skin from the inside? A vague feeling of nausea overcame him, still he forced himself to approach the Morningstar with raised hands and what he hoped to be a calming shooing noise on his lips. “Everything will be alright. How can I help you?”

But a groan was the only answer he got; the Morningstar apparently unable to vocalize any sensible words. That impression only got reinforced by the glazed look in his eyes that stared at the prince of the Devildom in an unfocused and not really perceiving way. Diavolo extended his hand, careful not to spook the fallen angel. His fingers met clammy skin and he gently trailed them up to put them on the Morningstar's soaked forehead. It was their first time touching and he really wished it had happened under better circumstances.

"How can I help you?" he asked again, almost pleading this time.

A croak escaped the Morningstar's throat, then his glassy eyes finally landed on Diavolo.  
"Cut it out," he rasped. And in a moment of true despair his hands grabbed for Diavolo's tunic, burrowing shaking fingers into the fabric, louder he repeated, "cut it out, please!"

Diavolo's mouth opened, then he shook his head. Cut it out? How could he?

The tugging on his tunic intensified and the Morningstar stared at him, his eyes huge and pleading. And Diavolo knew he was lost. He was going to do it, even if he'd regret it. So, he took a deep breath and then brought out his knife. It had been concealed in his boot because his guards had insisted he carry it. Initially, he'd refused the idea - for what would he need to defend himself against a few fallen angels - but as it had just turned out, having a knife came in handy.

He held it up so the Morningstar could see it and only when the angel nodded, did he proceed to turn him around and inspect his back some more. It earned him another pained moan and even Diavolo couldn't help his face from distorting into a grimace.

The sight was gruesome, nightmarish even.

The thing - whatever it was - was pushing against the almost translucent skin from the inside, obviously trying to get out. It seemed to be in about as much pain as its host because its face – if it was a face – was twisted into a voiceless scream.

Diavolo stared at it, then had to shake himself free from the spectacle. Alright, cut it out. He tried to tell himself he was freeing both, the thing and the Morningstar, while he placed the blade on the abused skin. It cut through with ease, but the whimpering sounds the Morningstar made while he removed layer after layer of skin was something that was probably going to haunt him for a very long time.  
  
Eventually, the angel passed out. Diavolo didn't like admitting it, but it was a bit of a relief to be able to commit this butchery without having to listen to the soundtrack. Then, finally the skin was gone and amidst all the blood and gore lay another person. Crouched in a foetal position he looked almost like a mirror image of the Morningstar.

Diavolo cocked his head. He never claimed to know much about angels, but he was pretty sure they didn't procreate like this.

Both, the Morningstar and the copy were unconscious. Diavolo studied them. They did look alike but they also didn't. He arched an eyebrow and reached out with his hand to touch the copy's crusted hair. He turned it between his fingers and unstuck some of the locks from the brown mess. They seemed to be golden underneath it all, it was quite the surprise. Diavolo hmmed and wondered if he could risk it to move the new body.

Eventually he slid his arms underneath the blonde's back and knees and wanted to lift him bridal style… it turned out to be a mistake. Because in the moment he tried to pull him off the ground a green eye opened, then narrowed and an inhuman screech followed. Diavolo lurched and instinctively wanted to cover his ears, which was a futile endeavour because the blonde was clawing hysterically at his face, screeching and kicking wildly. Diavolo was more than happy to shove him off him.

The blonde tumbled, fell, then continued crawling on the ground, again and again throwing panicked glances in Diavolo's direction. The prince huffed in annoyance and ran a hand over his scuffed face. He was covered in dirt and bodily fluids – the latter a fact he wouldn't have minded so much as long as it happened under more pleasant circumstances – and the thing still looked at him as if he was evil incarnate.

So, he took a deep breath, then another one. He lifted his hands in the typical _I don't mean you any harm_ gesture. It had rendered some moderate results with the Morningstar, maybe it would also work with his feral copy. But the thing only stared at him, even baring its teeth at him. Alright, rude.

Still, he tried the direct approach. "I won't hurt you. Are you in pain?" he asked.

The thing's eyes widened, clearly not understanding. Diavolo sighed. Great, so it was non-verbal. He really didn't know what to do with that. His gaze fell back on the Morningstar who was still on the ground, bleeding out slowly. He needed some priorities here, so he hunkered down and started dressing the angel's wound as well as possible before wrapping him in his coat and lifting him up.  
  
The thing, meanwhile, observed his actions warily and almost sprang to its feet when he began to remove the Morningstar but eventually seemed to decide against it. It only stared after them in confusion and something that Diavolo would have classified as longing when he started walking into the direction of the cave's entrance. A whine followed them as they left.

It was the kind of display that even the prince of the Devildom couldn't harden his heart against entirely, but first he had to make sure the Morningstar was taken care of. Maybe afterwards he'd return and have another look at what exactly had been born there in that dusty cave out of the Morningstar's blood and agony.

TBC


	5. Day Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, the pandemic is kinda killing my groove ><'  
> But I promise I'm gonna finish this story.

On the fifth day Diavolo arrived at the angelic settlement later than usual, but he felt he deserved a short break after the exhausting events of the previous day. That is why it came as quite the surprise when he was met by a pacing and obviously disgruntled Morningstar, waiting for him at the adobe hut.

“You’re late,” he greeted him.

Diavolo smiled in return, delighted to see the angel up and about. “Hello to you too. You seem to have healed up nicely."

The angel shot him a reproachful look and turned to move away from the hut. The movement revealed a bandage that covered his shoulder and back and impacted Diavolo's elated mood somewhat. He squinted at the fabric in suspicion, and when the Morningstar noticed, he hastily covered the exposed area. He cleared his throat and hissed, "It's nothing."

"It doesn't look like nothing. And what happened in the cave wasn't nothing either. Have you been up there and…"

The Morningstar raised his hand, essentially silencing the prince. "You don't need to concern yourself with that." His expression was strained. "I'm grateful for your assistance, Your Highness. But what happened in the cave is my business and mine alone."

"Oh, really? Do your brothers know about the new addition to the family?" he asked pointedly.

The angel opened his mouth to retort something, then closed it again and instead just threw a long hard look at Diavolo. "Let us not talk about it," he offered. "Or at least not now."

Diavolo nodded, albeit reluctantly. "And what can I do for you today?" He asked instead, taking a deep breath. He was aware that this exchange was an almost parodic inversion of how their conversations normally went, and the angel must have noticed it too because his brow wrinkled before he schooled his features and answered in an almost pleasant tone, "You wanted to discuss business, so let's discuss.

The Morningstar gestured towards a small table that was placed on an ornate carpet in front of one of the tents. There was food and a pot with some steaming liquid atop of it, and Diavolo was quite taken aback by the intricate design that adorned the pot. It looked native to the Devildom, yet he was certain it hadn't been part of the supplies he had sent to the angels' encampment.

He shot the Morningstar a questioning look, who answered with a somewhat strained smile. "One of my brothers traded it."

Diavolo nodded, almost impressed. It was quite the piece of craftsmanship. He wondered what the angels had traded to get it from the locals.

"Have you considered my offer?" he asked finally and sat down cross-legged, back on track.

The Morningstar's expression didn't give away much while he joined him on the carpet. "I have. Yet I stand by what I said before. We're not here to cause you trouble, but we still seek freedom. And bowing to another lord seems counterproductive to that goal." He wasn't looking at Diavolo, instead his gaze was glued to some indeterminate point in the distance.

Diavolo took a deep breath. "Swearing fealty won't restrict your freedom. On the contrary, it would allow you to be part of our society and make a real life here instead of just living at the fringes."

"Ah," a self-deprecating smile was now gracing the Morningstar's lips. "But being part of a society also means living by its rules. And rules are what we're not especially fond of." His lips turned upwards; it transformed his expression into something much more wicked which made Diavolo's heart skip a beat. He leaned in almost instinctively

"There aren't that many rules here," he whispered conspiratorially. "It's the Devildom after all, and…"

Diavolo was rudely interrupted by a villager who casually crossed their little square and headed over to one of the nearby tents without paying them any heed. The prince raised an eyebrow. He wasn't used to being ignored by his own subjects, but what struck him as even weirder was seeing a demon move about the angels' settlement with such nonchalance. He turned towards the Morningstar whose eyes followed the intruder full of disdain.

"What's going on?" he asked

"That's one of my brothers'… trade partners."

The Morningstar's expression was back to being markedly blank, yet Diavolo could hear the pause that accompanied it and failed to make sense of it. So, it he observed how the man slipped into one of the tents, greeted by an enthusiastic "Oh we've been waiting for you. Now hurry up, dear, and get undre…" the rest was swallowed up by a rather obtrusive clearing of the Morningstar's throat.

"Ignore them," the angel said and waved a dismissive hand in that direction. Yet it was more than clear that what had just transpired made him uncomfortable. Diavolo's gaze flitted between the Morningstar's forced smile and the tent.

"What is going on?" he asked again, wary.

"Nothing," the angel answered, but it really didn't convince. So Diavolo got up and started walking in the tent's direction. Before he could reach it though, the Morningstar grabbed his wrist.

"It's nothing, really," he repeated and looked at Diavolo imploringly. The prince almost felt himself falter in the face of such an intense stare if not for the noises that were now reaching his ear. He straightened and listened.

There was moaning… and giggling.

He raised an eyebrow which was answered by long-suffering sigh and a roll of the Morningstar's eyes. They seemed to say, 'Go ahead, but don't say I didn't warn you'. So Diavolo cautiously approached the tent and peeked through one of the gaps in the overlying flaps.

There was movement and more moaning. It wasn't like Diavolo was too naïve to understand what was going on. That was pretty clear. But he was somewhat flabbergasted by the number of limbs he spotted. There must be three… no four people involved, and in its middle was the lovely angel.

Diavolo turned round back to the Morningstar who was massaging his forehead. "Is that consensual?" he asked carefully while at the same time already aware of the answer. The lovely angel's flushed face and demeanor had pretty much told him everything he needed to know.

"I fear it is," the Morningstar answered, obviously deeply embarrassed by his brother's behavior.

"So, I assume that's how you got the pot."

A small inclination of the angel's head was the only response he received, and Diavolo sighed. He felt like massaging his forehead too. "So the villagers bring supplies for your brother's," he paused to think about how to phrase that politely, "attention?"

"You can say 'body'," the Morningstar shot him a pained look. "And no, it's not quite like that. Or at least not according to my brother. He says the supplies are gifts, and he only accepts them from the people he likes. You see he has these new powers…"

Oh yes, Diavolo was aware.

The Morningstar gestured towards the tent. "He uses them to lure those people in that appeal to him. And generally, that leads to gifts and occasionally some tears because not everybody understands that he's not quite that serious when it comes to anything beyond physical gratification. So all in all, I think you need to be more worried about your people than mine."

"I see." Diavolo stole another look through the tent flap. The bodies were writhing, sweating, moving in unison. It was quite a tantalizing sight, it had him swallow hard and he felt the heat rise into his own cheeks. He loosened his collar a bit. And then, the unexpected happened. The lovely angel looked up at him, right through the writhing, sweating mass of limbs with his golden gaze fixed on Diavolo. He winked and blew him a kiss. 'Join us', his lips formed wordlessly, and Diavolo took a helpless step backwards.

Alright, so much for a compelling invitation. He threw a careful look behind himself to where the Morningstar was standing with arms crossed over his chest. His expression revealed he knew exactly what had just happened.

Diavolo felt the need to clear his throat. "As long as nobody is coerced, I don't see the need to step in," even to his own ears it sounded weak.

The Morningstar nodded, clearly unimpressed. "Maybe you should come aback another time," he supplied, imperturbable.

Diavolo nodded in assent, all the while strictly avoiding turning his gaze back to tent. He would come back another time to convince the angel of the merits of his cause. Now, wasn't good.

He swallowed again and took a hasty step away from the square. Then, he stopped abruptly only to fix the Morningstar in his sights again. "Are you going to take care of what is in the caves?" he asked in a much more serious tone.

The Morningstar winced and his mouth turned down in a displeased expression. "Yes," he answered in a low voice while his gaze wandered in the direction in which the caves lay.

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I appreciate comments ♥


	6. Day Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that took a while... again. At least the chapter is slightly longer.

When Diavolo returned to the angelic settlement on the sixth day, something was on fire. Quite literally.

There was smoke rising above the tents and frantic people running around, shouting and passing buckets of water from one to another. Diavolo's first instinct was to rush over and help but it proved quite unnecessary because the Morningstar, in all his glory, seemed to have the situation under control. He stood there, his wings unfurled and elegant pale hands gesturing in one direction, then the next. He barked succinct orders that were promptly followed by angels and demons alike.   
  
Diavolo nodded in silent acknowledgment, even though nobody was paying him any attention, admiring the Morningstar's qualities as a natural born leader and the efficiency with which he controlled the rescue efforts.

A final desperate hiss of the dying fire signaled its surrender and eventually only the unpleasant smell of burnt things and wet soil was left behind. The frenzy started to die down and the people returned to their previous occupations, whispering among themselves and throwing furtive looks at the destroyed tent. In front of it stood the lovely angel with the loose morals. He looked disheveled but simultaneously more annoyed than distraught. His hair was a wild mess and when Diavolo approached he made a hasty attempt to straighten it out a bit. He threw Diavolo a charming yet somewhat forced smile. "Your Highness, you've chosen a rather unfortunate moment to grace us with your presence."

"I can see that." He talked to the lovely angel but his eyes were searching for another figure that had vanished between the tents. "What happened?"

The lovely angel waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. "Oh, nothing too serious."

Diavolo's head turned back towards the angel. He raised an incredulous eyebrow. "Your tent just burned down. I'd call that serious."

"Oh, don't worry. I have to admit it's sweet though," he winked and took Diavolo's upper arm, gently guiding him away from the destroyed tent and in the direction the Morningstar had gone. "I'm sure you want to talk to our fearless leader. I'll take you to him."

Diavolo's eyebrow wandered even higher. That was far more gratuitousness than he was used to from these angels, and far less subtlety. The latter, of course, seemed to depend on his current interlocutor's goals. But still...

"That's his tent, over there." He pointed to the one behind the adobe hut, and Diavolo made a mental note of it. "You shouldn't go in there without announcing yourself though. He doesn't like that."

Diavolo nodded graciously and was internally already cataloguing the things he wanted to say to the Morningstar that he barely noticed the lovely angel making an attempt at slipping away. Before he could vanish behind a tent though Diavolo grabbed his wrist. "Are you sure you're fine?"

The lovely angel paused, staring at their point of contact before raising his eyes and bestowing Diavolo with a smouldering look. The prince could feel the heat of the spell crashing over him like a storm tide. He immediately let go of the angel and took a step back. He cleared his throat. "Thank you for taking me here."

The angel inclined his head. "You're welcome. And, once again, don't worry about me. I have things under control." He shot Diavolo a flirty look before turning around and walking off.

Diavolo wasn't so sure about that statement but pressing the matter obviously didn't lead anywhere. So, he took another deep breath instead and approached the Morningstar's tent. Without thinking he brushed the tent flap aside and then immediately remembered that he was supposed to announce himself first. After some mental curses he decided that deed was already done and proceeded.

Which turned out to be another mistake because something came flying and hit him square in the face. Diavolo tumbled backwards and landed on his backside with a breathless "oof".

Rubbing his smarting forehead, he took stock of the situation. There were books strewn on the floor, in all stages of display, while the Morningstar and his unholy double were wrestling in their middle, both looking the worse for wear and apparently fighting over a blanket that was half covering the blonde.

The situation would have been amusing, hadn't the Morningstar been shooting him a look so icy it made Diavolo shudder a little. "I apologize for the inconvenience," he proclaimed as steady as possible. "You vanished to quickly after the fire, I didn't get the chance to catch up with you without intruding here."

The Morningstar's eyes narrowed, obviously assessing the statement, before his shoulders slumped and he let go of the blonde, who immediately started scrambling away as far as possible - which was not far because a chain around his ankle restricted his movement to inside the tent.

"While I'm relieved to see you have indeed started to take care of your new brother," he gestured towards the blonde, "I must admit I imagined something a bit different."

The Morningstar, whose nose had already scrunched up at the word 'brother', looked even dourer now. Then, as if remembering something, he straightened his robes and sat up facing Diavolo.  
"Your Lordship, you underestimate the situation. He," he made a dismissive gesture in the blonde's direction, "isn't ready for any kind of company yet."

Diavolo's eyes followed the indication towards the crouching creature. He lacked the feral sneer he'd displayed back in the cave, but it was still clear there was something untamed about him. It mostly became evident in the vicious glare he sent in the Morningstar's direction, all the while ignoring Diavolo.

The prince raised an eyebrow. "Is he capable of speech?

"He is," the Morningstar answered without taking his eyes off the blonde. "He does, however, prefer to communicate by being difficult." And as if on cue, another book was thrown. The Morningstar evaded it gracefully. "See what I mean?"

"Have you tried a," Diavolo deliberated, "a softer approach?"

"Softer? Softer will get you your eyes scratched out," the Morningstar huffed and shoved his sleeve back, revealing four angry red scratches along his pale forearm. It also caused a fleeting expression of satisfaction crossing the blonde's face.

Diavolo grimaced in sympathy. So, the situation was indeed at a stalemate. He raised his hands in surrender. "I'll leave it to you, but I trust you'll get it under control."

"Of course, I will," the angel sounded piqued, but nonetheless started moving away from the scene, however, not before shooting the blonde one last reproachful look. He guided Diavolo to a separated part further back in the tent and sat down. "I assume you haven't come to just make inquiries about him, have you?"

"No," Diavolo shook his head. "As always I'm here to see how all of you are doing. And to my big astonishment today I arrived to see your settlement on fire."

The Morningstar waved it off, ironically with a similarly nonchalant expression as the lovely angel had. "Oh, don't bother yourself with that. It was only a matter of time until something like this was going to happen. My brother really brought it on himself. He should have been more aware of the consequences of his thoughtless actions."

"So, you assume it was one of his jilted lovers?" Diavolo asked. "If you have proof, we can take actions against the culprit. This may be the Devildom, but we still have…"

The Morningstar interrupted him with a raised hand. "If I had proof, I would already have done something to chastise the one responsible." There was something testy in the way he furrowed his brow. "But as things are now, I can only guess. And we wouldn't want me to make any unjustified accusations." He regarded Diavolo. His gaze almost daring the prince to say something contrary.

"Quite correct," Diavolo retorted carefully, returning the Morningstar's scrutinizing look with one of his own. He wasn't entirely sure what he was being cross-examined for, but then, that was kind of the appeal. Steering the conversation in another direction still mightn't be the worst idea though.   
"You do have sentries?"

Surprisingly enough that remark seemed to hit the bull's eye because the Morningstar flinched. Almost immediately he plastered that polite fake smile on his face and nodded. "Oh yes, we do. And therein lies the problem because the sentry fell asleep during his shift and can't testify to who came and went."

"So, you intend to punish the sentry for neglecting his duties?"

"The punishment is already in progress."

Diavolo studied the Morningstar's face. It was the placid mask from before but by now Diavolo had become pretty good at making sense of these miniscule twitches that creased the corner of the angel's eyes. "While I don't mean to overstep, I'd still like to point out that the execution of the law is a privilege reserved for the sovereign and his appointed authorities. You might not have sworn allegiance to my father, but you're still living in his dominion and as such under his jurisdiction."

The Morningstar's face became, if possible, even more bland. Then, with a blink, he seemed to shake it off and gave a small stilted laugh. "Oh, you're imagining the worst. Rest assured the punishment is nothing our sloppy guard can't handle. I'll show you." He got up and signaled for Diavolo to follow him. Before leaving the tent though, he threw his blonde double a warning look. It had the creature shrink in on himself. The Morningstar seemed satisfied and exited with his head held high. He gestured in the direction of the woods and Diavolo followed him without another word.

They reached a clearing after a few minutes and Diavolo saw immediately what kind of punishment the Morningstar had cooked up. One of the fallen angels, a shorter fellow he had never encountered before, was strung up upside-down on a tree. His face had turned somewhat blueish and struck a weird contrast with his two-toned hair. At the bottom, tied to the trunk, was a second figure, who upon closer examination turned out to be the tall redhead. Neither responded to their arrival.

“I see you’ve become creative,” Diavolo said. He regarded the gently swinging body. “He’s still alive, I presume."

"It wouldn't be much of a punishment if he didn't live to regret it." A small cruel smile was playing at the corners of the Morningstar's lips. Diavolo made note of it, before his attention wandered back to the redhead on the ground. "A co-conspirator?"

“His brother – twin brother,” the Morningstar clarified upon Diavolo's creased brow. “Their bond is strong, and he'd be inclined to help our unrepentant sentry.”

"I told you, I'm sorry," the strung-up angel interjected with a croaky voice. It sounded much more petulant though, and the awkward jerking that was supposed to turn this bound body around to face his judges only underlined that notion. Diavolo raised an eyebrow. So, the rascal proved to be quite obstinate. Maybe he had directed his suspicions at the wrong person.

"Sorry does not restore your brother's belongings," the Morningstar retorted in a stern voice, "and you haven't even tried to make amends for…"

"He's far from innocent and it was only a matter of time until his vile behavior would have ramifications!" the angel interrupted, all his previous reassurances obviously forgotten again. He looked reproachful, if not to say angry.

The Morningstar's expression hardened. He leaned in. "Are you implying your brother deserved what he got?"

The strung-up angel's mouth thinned into a barely visible line. He stared at the Morningstar, his eyes full of loathing, but he refrained from saying any more.

Diavolo was stunned. While the Morningstar had essentially said the same thing only minutes before, it was obviously something different when the same notion was expressed by a wilful sibling. Not that Diavolo could fault him for that, such were the intricacies of ruling. And pointing out the consequences of the sentry's missed duties made sense to him, so much actually that the unrepentant anger at the Morningstar seemed out of proportion.

At the bottom of the tree the second angel gave a small pained grunt. He was clearly disturbed by the palpable tension between his two brothers. "Please," he said in small voice, "don't fight."

"It's all his fault," the strung-up angel snarled, meaning the Morningstar.

"What exactly is my fault?" the tone was hard now, dangerous, and Diavolo felt a shiver running down his spine when the Morningstar grabbed the other angel's scalp, making him look at his face. "Please elaborate."

"You know exactly what I mean!" he spat. "It's your fault we're here. You promised us freedom but instead all you got us is desolation! We're reduced to an existence as starving vagabonds when we should be the Celestial Realm's most glorious warriors! It's all your fault!"

The Morningstar struck him.

It had the angel gasp in shocked surprise before his upside-down face twisted into an ugly grimace. "Oh, you can punish me all you want, but we know you're the greatest failure of all." He laughed almost maniacally. "Most of all you failed Lilith. She's dead because of you and your arrogance! You betrayed us!"

The Morningstar let go of the other angel as quickly as if he'd been burned. He staggered backwards, his eyes widened in shock. One of his hands had wandered to his chest, frantically clawing at the fabric there. "I didn't – I never meant to…" he stuttered but couldn't finish because the redhead interrupted, louder this time.

"Stop it, you two! Stop hurting each other!" He looked up and his gaze was clear. Despite being tied to the tree trunk his assertion had the desired effect. Both his brothers' heads turned in his direction.

"Brother," he addressed the strung-up angel, "we all know he's not responsible for sister's death. She was her own person and made her own decisions, and fighting in the war, with all its consequences, was one of them. You can't blame him for that." Then after taking a deep breath that gave the others the chance to let the words sink in, he added, "we all made that same decision. Nobody forced us." He looked directly at the Morningstar. "You didn't force us, brother."

The Morningstar looked shaken and Diavolo put a calming hand on the arm that was still pressed to the angel's heaving chest. He guided it down but kept his fingers encircling the slender wrist and tried to convey his sympathy with that simple touch.

Diavolo was aware he'd just witnessed a deeply private moment. "I think you need to clear this dispute up on your own. However, I'll return again tomorrow. I have a proposition to make." He squeezed the Morningstar's arm one last time before letting go. He knew this was a turning point.

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, we've almost reached the conclusion. 
> 
> Leave a comment ♥


	7. Day Seven

Day seven

On the seventh day Diavolo didn't go to the angelic settlement, instead he sent a message. It was a short, written note addressed to the Morningstar to meet him at the gates of Pandemonium. Of course, Diavolo realised that summoning the fallen angel like this wouldn't earn him any sympathy points, but under the given circumstances it seemed the correct move. So, he waited patiently until the elegant form finally showed at the horizon.

"It's good to see you. I almost thought you wouldn't make an appearance."

The Morningstar's lips curled in distaste. "How couldn't I after being invited so cordially."

Diavolo smiled and raised a placating hand. "Don't judge the situation too hastily. I'm inclined to think you'll find what I'm going to show you rather interesting."

The Morningstar's brow furrowed but he said nothing and instead followed Diavolo through the opened gates. They walked the winding paths through town and eventually ended up at a beautiful garden. The Morningstar's face let nothing on as he scanned the structures, his gaze eventually landing on an elevated pedestal in the middle. "What is the meaning of this?" he asked.

"Please," Diavolo gestured towards the pedestal, "see for yourself."

The angel's eyes narrowed, still he walked over to what turned out to be a glass coffin with someone lying inside. He watched, then he stopped. His eyes widened and his mouth fell open.   
  
"Lilith?"

He stormed over, his shaking hands touching the glass. Almost fervently he traced the prone form's outline. "Sister." The Morningstar stared at her unmoving body before his head snapped up with sudden vigour. "What have you done to her?" he accused.

Diavolo's eyes widened. "Nothing. She was injured during your fall." He came to stand on the other side of the coffin, but the Morningstar's distrustful expression didn't change.

"Then why is she like this?"

"The spark of her life has been nearly extinguished. We put her in the coffin to preserve what is left of it, but we are no healers. There is nothing more we as demons can do for her." He looked at the Morningstar, his searching gaze clearly implying that the fallen angel's chances might be better.

The Morningstar bit his lip, his eyes wandering down to his hands, opening and closing them in uncertain contemplation. "I'm not sure I still have that ability. It's an angel's gift, and we are no longer angels."

Diavolo nodded. He had feared as much. Still, he placed a careful hand on the Morningstar's upper arm. "You could try," he suggested gently.

But the Morningstar only shook his head. "No, it'd be futile. I don't feel the power anymore. I can't heal her. It's you who needs to save her." Then, something in his expression changed, the despair replaced by a look of shrewdness. "That's why you brought me here, isn't it? To make a point."

Diavolo dropped his hand. "No, not at all. I merely wanted to help and show you that you could trust us."

"Trust you? If we could trust you, you would have told me immediately she was here!" He radiated hostility while his red eyes were trained on the prince accusatorily.

Diavolo took a deep breath and tried to center himself. He needed to choose his words carefully now, or his efforts the previous days would have been in vain because this fallen angel seemed – unfortunately - all too willing to misconstrue his actions as underhanded.

"You were angels, we didn't know what to expect from you. As the leaders of the Devildom my father and I have a responsibility to protect our people first, and it was crucial to figure out how you fit into that."

Building his argument around duty and protection wasn't exactly subtle, but he knew the Morningstar related to it. And, to his deep relief, it seemed to have been the right thing to say because some of the tension drained from the angel's body.

Still, the Morningstar eyes him critically. "That's why you wanted to know about girl angels."

Diavolo gave a curt nod, remembering the exchange. "I wasn't sure she belonged with you. While she's clearly an angel, her body doesn't show the signs of change you and your brothers have undergone, but that might just be because of her injuries."

The Morningstar turned, only now examining his sister's appearance more closely. He didn't say anything but his expression while he studied her was full worry and … warmth. Diavolo felt quite drawn to it and took an involuntary step closer before he noticed what he was doing, straightened and cleared his throat.

"As I said before, we don't have the ability to heal such grave injuries and if you can't do anything about it either, then there's really only one option." He paused, looking at the Morningstar whose gaze stayed pointedly glued to the body in the coffin. "We can send her to the human world."

"No."

Just one word, no, nothing more.

Diavolo stared at the fallen angel and could feel his own hackles raising at such arrogant finality. "No?" he asked incredulously. "If she stays, her spirit will perish. In the human world, she could at least lead a mortal life."

"The mortal existence is finite, and we are not mortals." The Morningstar finally looked up, his warm expression once again replaced by one of deep disdain.

"And oblivion is better than mortality?" Diavolo gestured animatedly, the increase in his volume vaguely surprising to him too, but the Morningstar had that effect on him. He needed to drive that point home. "As a mortal she'd have a chance."

The Morningstar stared at him, Diavolo stared back. It was a stalemate so tense the sparks could almost be felt flying, until, to Diavolo's great surprise, the angel lowered his gaze. In a much smaller voice he admitted, "We would never see her again."

A pained expression crossed his beautiful features and Diavolo understood. So in the softest of tones he offered, "But she'd live and you'd have that knowledge to get by. It's the only way to save her."

An almost imperceptible nod was the answer.

Diavolo let go of the breath he didn't notice he'd been holding and gave the Morningstar a shaky smile. Finally. Then something Diavolo really hadn't anticipated happened. The Morningstar fell to his knees, and Diavolo's eyes widened in surprise.

"You are a lord over this dominion, so please, help her! Send her to the human world because you know I can't."

Diavolo's mouth opened. Seeing the Morningstar kneel to him did things to his brain that this wasn't the moment to contemplate. With hammering heart, he cupped the Morningstar's face. "Then what do you offer in return?"

The Morningstar looked at him, his gaze intense. "My eternal fealty."

Diavolo felt a wave of satisfaction wash over him. With a smile yet still somewhat shaken from the development, he took a step back and the hand that had just been on the beautiful angel's face was extended in front of him.

"Then welcome to the Devildom, my friend."

The Morningstar took it.

* * *

  
They stood in the throne room, clad in simple yet flattering garb. One after the other they were called forward and sworn in by the ruler of the Devildom himself. Diavolo watched pridefully when the Morningstar's turn arrived.

"To the first of the fallen angels, I bestow the name Lucifer. He shall hereafter become the avatar of pride and lead demon and mortal alike." The Morningstar bowed.

"To the second of the fallen angels, I bestow the name Mammon. He shall hereafter become the avatar of greed and tempt demon and mortal alike." The white-haired angel bowed.

"To the third of the fallen angels, I bestow the name Leviathan. He shall hereafter become the avatar of envy and burden demon and mortal alike." The blue-haired angel bowed.

"To the fourth of the fallen angels, I bestow the name Satan. He shall hereafter become the avatar of wrath and plague demon and mortal alike." The Morningstar's angry blond double bowed.

"To the fifth of the fallen angels, I bestow the name Asmodeus. He shall hereafter become the avatar of lust and beguile demon and mortal alike." The lovely angel bowed.

"To the sixth of the fallen angels, I bestow the name Beelzebub. He shall hereafter become the avatar of gluttony and starve demon and mortal alike." The tall redhead bowed.

"To the seventh of the fallen angels, I bestow the name Belphegor. He shall hereafter become the avatar of sloth and ruin demon and mortal alike." The mouthy sentry bowed.

* * *

With seven now named demons, Diavolo felt there was only one thing left to do. He approached the Mor- Lucifer and shot him what he hoped to be a charming smile. "You did well."

Lucifer huffed but there was amusement crinkling the corners of his eyes. "It wasn't particularly hard. Your father makes for an impressive ruler. Let's hope you'll do as well as him when your time comes."

There was a challenge in these words and Diavolo was more than willing to take it on. He sidled up to the Mor – to Lucifer. "Oh yes. A partner to help alleviate the burden of ruling might just be what is needed to do the trick." He held out his hand and Lucifer took it. Almost reverently he guided the pale slender fingers to his lips and planted a kiss on them. The future looked bright.

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, that's it, the end. I hope you liked the fic. Leave a few words if you did, I greatly enjoy comments.


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